


Second Place is First Loser

by strangelysweet



Series: It Happens to the Best of Us [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akechi Goro and Sakura Futaba Are Half-Siblings, Alternate Universe - American High School, Bets & Wagers, Cooking, Cosmic Insignificance, Cosmicism, Crossdressing, Established Relationship, F/F, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Kitagawa Yusuke & Sakura Futaba Friendship, M/M, Mario Kart, Past Child Abuse, Teen Angst, ace attorney references, alternate title: akira and futaba duel for goro's attention, both of the yoshizawa twins are here bc again i'd feel bad if i killed one, don't worry it's going to be ok :), or is there???
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:15:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24825898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangelysweet/pseuds/strangelysweet
Summary: Goro Akechi really has it all, this time. The hot boyfriend, the spot on the football team, he even stood up to his father.But this isn't about him. This is about his sister.Futaba Sakura has hacked into the US Military Base three times, once by accident, the other two times to wish them all a happy April Fool's day. She has passed countless tests to universities willing to take her, a fifteen-year-old, into their schools four years early.She couldn't care less. She just wants to get the fuck out of town with her best friend and her older brother, leaving the rest of them in the dust.The only problem?Akira fucking Kurusu.
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Sakura Futaba, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Kurusu Akira & Sakura Futaba, Niijima Makoto/Okumura Haru
Series: It Happens to the Best of Us [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1795603
Comments: 9
Kudos: 82





	1. The Bet

"Oracle! Quick, we're gonna die!" 

Aw, shitballs, this was bad. Futaba pressed as many buttons as she could, trying everything and anything to save her team. 

"I'm trying my best here." She grumbled, watching as their enemy got back up, the damage they had tried to inflict being absorbed. Futaba grimaced as one of them was knocked out. 

"Hey, can someone cast Recarm?" A voice called out, almost drowned out by the roar of their enemy. Futaba pressed a button, praying she could block the incoming attack. The enemy took the bait, slamming down on the pre-generated shield Futaba had set up, not realizing the grave mistake it had just made. The poor sucker was blown backward by the force. 

"Now! All-Out-Attack!" Futaba yelled, readying her homebrew weapon, the Futa-Bomb. 

Her team dashed around the monster, dealing small amounts of damage in large quantities. Her weapon stopped loading, dinging to signal it was ready for use. 

"Game over." She whispered excitedly. The monster exploded and her team erupted into cheers. 

Futaba adjusted her headset, laughing as she ping-ponged around the room in her spinny chair. The screen flashed red, the spoils of their battle falling in.

"Futaba! Come down, I need to talk to you." A voice called from downstairs. Futaba groaned, muttering into her mic. 

"Gotta blast, guys. Good work today."

Futaba leaped down the stairs two at a time, groaning as she did so. Her brother stood at the bottom, his hand on his hip.

"Puny mortal... Why have you awakened _me_ , the great pharaoh, from her sleep?" She stretched her arms out and cackled maniacally.

Goro raised an eyebrow.

"I'm going out. Do you want me to bring anything back for dinner?" He asked, nodding to the front door. Futaba tapped her chin thoughtfully. 

"Can Akira cook?" She asked slyly.

Goro sighed and nodded. "Ridiculously well." 

"You have good taste. Bring him over for dinner so I, the great Futaba, can survey the sacrifice you have brought into our lives!" Futaba let out another evil laugh. Goro looked like a mildly pissed-off cat. 

"Akira is not a sacrifice. I'm not _that_ ruthless, contrary to popular belief." He said, a slight smile playing on his face. Futaba snorted with laughter.

"Yeah, sure. I bet he lasts a week. You'll get bored of him, you'll see."

Her older brother sighed. 

"Come on, Futaba, be mature. That's not even a proper bet. What do I win if I'm still with Akira next week?" He asked, smirking. Futaba rubbed her little hands together.

"Ohohoho! I see! Hmmm... You lose, and you have to wear the most glamorous, sexy dress you can find, and I get to give you a photoshoot." She grinned. Goro chuckled, crossing his arms. 

"What if I win?" He asked, taking the bait. Futaba hummed thoughtfully.

"I guess... I'll eat your cooking for a week?" She offered. Goro shook her hand. 

"We have ourselves a deal, little sister." He smirked. She laughed, shaking his hand like a jackhammer plunging into tarmac.

"You bet we do, idiot brother. Prepare your best dress, I expect you to walk in heels as well." 

She watched as Goro closed the door behind him, on the phone with his stupid jock boyfriend. It wasn't that Futaba didn't want Goro to be happy, it was just that Akira seemed... Too good to be true. She'd watched enough anime to know that the hot guy was likely a supervillain who would pin the hero to walls as he listed the ways he would destroy him. Honestly, Akira was halfway there. Futaba regretted activating her wiretapping bug on Goro's phone back at the game. She never wanted to hear that shit again. 

Of course, Futaba doesn't learn from her lessons. Pssht, there's no way you could teach Futaba, slacker extraordinaire, the unwisest of the unwise, a _lesson_. Puny mortal, what do you take her for, a fool? 

She tuned in to Goro's phone, just in case he mentioned what Akira was cooking tonight. Akira spoke first.

"Hey, babe, what did you need?" 

(Ew! Pet names are hecking gross!)

"I was wondering if you could do me a favor? My sister wants to see if you make good housewife material." Goro said exasperatedly. Akira laughed. 

"Oho, I _see_. You want me to cook you dinner. I have plenty of other housewife skills, you know. I can cook, clean, look pretty, bend over when you ask-"

(EW HOLY SHIT WHAT THE FUCK GORO WHY DO YOU LIKE HIM?)

"Akira! Jesus, do you ever stop?" Goro stuttered. Futaba groaned, _this_ close to sobbing. Akira laughed. He had a nice laugh, Futaba decided. Maybe he wasn't _too_ bad.

"That's not what you said last night." 

Futaba took it back. Kill it with fire. She heard Goro sigh in disappointment. "Akira. I swear, I will hang up on you." 

(Oh, God, please do) 

The stupid jock boyfriend only laughed. "You wound me, babe. I guess I'll just have to wait until later. Where do you want to meet?" 

"I'll come pick you up." 

(When did he go to Akira's place?)

Akira had the same question. "When did you come over?" He asked. Goro scoffed. 

"The party. You drove us there and we nearly crashed into the river." 

(Oh, sweet freakin' meatballs she did not want to know that)

Akira stuttered, then laughed. "You know the route after just one drive? Damn, brains _and_ a good ass." 

(UGHHHHH)

Goro was falling for this. Why he was, Futaba could not tell you for the life of her. Akira was insufferably charismatic, yes, but he was really immature for the hell of it. She snapped back to attention. 

"Very funny. I'll see you there." Goro drawled. Futaba could imagine the look on his face right now. She hoped it was a disappointing death stare, not a mushy, blushy face. 

"You got it, babe. Talk to you later." Akira was smiling, she could tell from his tone. Goro laughed softly and hung up. Futaba switched off the bug and flopped down onto her bed. 

It wasn't that she didn't trust _Goro_ , it was that she didn't trust anyone _talking_ to Goro. He was easily manipulated if the snake knew his weakness: Praise. You tell the boy he's doing a good job and he thinks you're the fucking incarnation of God. Futaba was just looking out for him. He looked out for her, so why shouldn't she do the same for him? This was her way of protecting him. She owed him this much.

He was her only remaining family. Her mother died, left for dead by her bastard of a father. She wanted to save up, get out of the small town, get in Goro's really shitty car, and just fucking drive. Drive until they could see the city. Futaba didn't know what they would do after that. She just had to graduate first. 

Futaba took a walk around the block to get to the park, her hands shoved inside the pockets of her old sweatshirt. She made her way over the swing set, placing her hand on the cold chains, and she waited. The metal grew warmer under her fingertips as she looked out across the park, her hood obscuring her face from view. Finally, she no longer had to wait. The swing next to her creaked against the rusty bar above it. 

"Took you long enough." Futaba frowned, taking her hood down. Yusuke smiled. 

"I had something to take care of. I apologize, I did not mean to keep you waiting." The artist picked paint from underneath his fingernails and flicked it away, dried flakes of red and green falling to the turf below their feet. 

Futaba broke into a grin, pulling Yusuke into a headlock and affectionately ruffling his hair. Yusuke had been her best friend for years. He was a total oddball with an eye for the wacky, but hey, so was Futaba. Yusuke had a few friends who went to Goro's school, but he didn't really hang out with them as much as he hung out with Futaba. They were inseparable. When she and her brother got out of town, Yusuke would be in the picture. Escaping from his shitty adopted father was step one of his plan, step two was reclaiming the fame that was his by talent. Once Yusuke got his studio apartment in the city, it was all over for those bitches. 

"Come on, let's hit the road," Futaba said, jumping off the swing and landing with a stumble. Yusuke smiled and stood up, letting himself be led away by his friend. 

Futaba unlocked the door, shoving her keys in the old fishbowl by the door. The goldfish had survived for about a few weeks before Futaba woke up to find the only thing denser than Goro when it came to romance, dead. She cried for a good four hours before swearing never to replace her only true friend, Gladiolus Buttface IV. She kept her promise, of course, she wasn't a monster. She got a digital fish tank that you can tap without hurting the fish, so that's pretty cool.

Yusuke kicked off his shoes and hung up his very impractical, but fashionable, jacket. They trooped up the stairs, then plonked down on Futaba's beanbag to get started in the feud to end all feuds: Mario Kart.

"Oh, my God, did you just blue-shell me? I curse you _and_ your bloodline three fucking times, Inari." Futaba screeched, holding the controller high above her head. Yusuke smirked, placing a hand dramatically in front of his face.

"You cannot curse talent, Futaba." He said, tossing his head back in maniacal laughter. Futaba scowled. 

"Weeb. Stop Jo-Jo Posing, you're throwing me off, and that's cheating!" She yelled, then ran off the track. In her defense, Yusuke had his elbow in her face. The artist gave her a nocuous smirk, then continued to drive off of the track. Futaba shrieked, then threw a blue shell of her own. 

"So, you know how my brother's dating a friend of yours?" She said, reaching for a Cool Ranch Dorito. Yusuke nodded.

"Akira, correct?" He confirmed, wincing as an NPC zoomed past him. Futaba nodded.

"He's coming over for dinner tonight. He's cooking." She said, trying to ignore the weird feeling in the back of her throat. 

Yusuke's eyes brightened and he smiled. "Akira is cooking for you? How lovely. He's really quite skilled, you know." 

Futaba nodded. She felt really weird. Something was wrong. Yusuke's eyes were trained on the screen, engaged completely in smashing Princess Peach's stupid, pink motorcycle against the side of the race track. She reached towards the Dorito bowl, the weird feeling tingling in the back of her throat as she chewed it. Her eyes started watering, and Futaba wondered if she was having an allergic reaction to the absolute best flavor of Doritos ever. 

God, she hoped not. What a way to go, though. 

She sniffed, bringing her knees up under her chin. Yusuke glanced at her, then patted her head. 

"He will never replace you, Futaba. Your brother cares about you. He has an odd way of showing it, but he shows it nonetheless." He said quietly, then took a Dorito. He made a face.

"What? Did you bite your tongue or something?" She sniffled, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. Yusuke frowned, then shook his head, still chewing. He finished his mouthful and grimaced. 

"Why on earth did you buy Cool Ranch?" He said, pushing the bowl away with his index finger. Futaba's jaw hit the floor. 

"What the _fuck_ , Yusuke? Cool Ranch is the best flavor." She said, bleary-eyed. Yusuke shrugged. 

"Maybe it is to you, however, I find the taste repulsive." He said, then blue-shelled Princess Peach. Good. The little pink bitch deserved it. Rosalina was so much better. Wait! He was distracting her from the obviously wrong opinion he had!

"No, Yusuke. Cool Ranch is objectively the best flavor. You're just weird." She pouted, sticking a tortilla chip in her mouth. Her best friend in the whole wide world, a Cool Ranch hater. She couldn't believe it. 

"I am _not_ weird!" Said the weirdo. Futaba stuck her tongue out at him and drove her Waluigi into Yusuke's Tanooki Mario. They both fell off the side, just as _fucking_ Princess Peach came in first. Yusuke's eyes shot open and he gave her a look of ultimate betrayal. 

"Futaba, I thought I trusted you." He uttered, completely shaken. The ginger-haired girl shrugged. 

"That sounds like a you problem, not a me problem." She said, crunching into a Dorito. 

Then she sniffled again. Yusuke's eyes softened. He patted her head again, letting her lean against him as she sobbed quietly. She looked out the window, wondering if Goro would try to incorporate Akira into their Great Escape. She knew it was selfish, but she didn't want him to do that. He was her brother. Her only family. 

"I just don't know why I'm upset." She lied, wiping ner nose with her sleeve again. The artist didn't say anything, he just petted her hair. 

"Are you sure? If I found myself a boyfriend, would you not be upset at that as well?" He said, and Futaba found herself nodding. 

"I think you're right. God, I'm such a fuck-up. I'm sorry, Yusuke, I don't want to be a burden to you." She said, burying her face in her hands. 

Yusuke drew back, placing his hands on her shoulders. "You, Futaba Sakura, are not a burden. You _never_ will be. You are my closest companion." 

Futaba stared at him with stars in her eyes. Her bottom lip trembled, then she grappled his bony limbs in a hug, wailing loudly. 

"Inari, I'm sorry I called you a weirdo! I love you!" She cried, squeezing his scrawny torso until he couldn't breathe. Yusuke patted her shoulder, tapping out. She released him from the Futaba Sakura Death Trap, then smiled genuinely. 

"Seriously, Yusuke. Thank you. I can ask if you could stay for dinner tonight, or..." She trailed off when Yusuke shook his head. 

"This is something you'll need to figure out by yourself, Futaba. Also, I would hate to witness Akira and your brother... What's the term? 'Going at it'?" He said, and bless him, he was earnest. Futaba nodded.

"Gotcha. Go, be free! I've beat your ass at Mario Kart, and your curfew is in, like, twenty minutes. I'll see you tomorrow." She said, ushering him down the stairs. He laughed, then waved, collecting his shoes and his impractical (but very fashionable!!) coat.

Futaba fished out her phone as she waited for her Stardew Valley to update. She flicked through all of her Discord chats, snorting with laughter as they all squabbled over whether or not Asuka was worthy of the title of Best Girl. Fools, it wasn't Asuka or Rei. It was Kaworu. She got a text from her brother before she could piss off the ignorant masses.

> Goro: Headed home with Akira. 
> 
> Goro: Please, don't scare him.
> 
> futaba: you're no fun
> 
> futaba: if your boyfriend can't handle me at my worst he does not deserve you at your best.
> 
> Goro: That is not how the phrase goes.
> 
> futaba: that's how it goes now >:P
> 
> Goro: I
> 
> Goro: Ok. Whatever, you're totally right.
> 
> futaba: hehe
> 
> Goro: But please.
> 
> Goro: Be civil. I really like him. 
> 
> futaba: ok fine
> 
> futaba: i'll play nice
> 
> Goro: Thank you. It means a lot.
> 
> Goro: We're stuck in traffic right now, but should be on our way soon. 
> 
> futaba: okie ttyl
> 
> Goro: What?
> 
> futaba: ugh you're like a 40yo man stuck in a teenager's body
> 
> futaba: talk to you later

Futaba tried. She really did. She even turned her phone off so she couldn't activate it. She tried so hard, but the temptation was too much. Futaba switched on the phone bug, and immediately regretted it. They were _not_ stuck in traffic, the little harlots. God, she should really learn her lesson. Horny teenagers will be horny teenagers. She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but she should have known that should have been pretty high on the list of What Futaba Might Hear When She Turns On Her Phone Bug.

She made a face and placed her phone face down, trying to get the sound of creaking bedsprings out of her mind as she absentmindedly clicked around her loading screen. Futaba's phone buzzed, and she picked it up again. 

> Sumire: Hi, Futaba!!
> 
> Sumire: I was just texting you to ask if you've done the math homework?
> 
> futaba: ahaha hello sumi
> 
> futaba: i have done it
> 
> Sumire: Is there a chance I could
> 
> Sumire: Copy it??
> 
> futaba: you don't even need to ask, i'm sending the answers to you immediately
> 
> Sumire: You are a lifesaver!!!
> 
> Sumire: Ily!!!
> 
> futaba: love ya too sumi
> 
> futaba: get a few of them wrong on purpose tho
> 
> Sumire: Gotcha!

Futaba sighed. Sumire was _such_ a sweetheart. She was one of the nice cheerleaders, always helping other people out. She felt so bad for her, though. It must have been hard living in her sister's shadow. Kasumi was so successful, always reaching above the designated target and setting the bar higher. Sumire was definitely a lot quieter, but she had more wisdom than her upbeat, happy-go-lucky sister. 

Futaba placed her phone down after sending Sumire the answers to the math homework, then idly span around the room in her desk chair. She launched off of surfaces like a very big, very slow, pinball. After about ten minutes of bouncing around her room, Futaba grew bored. She started thinking.

She hadn't seen Shido in weeks. Goro had said that the last time they spoke was tense, but usually, they made up. By 'made up', Futaba meant Goro being guilted into forgiving and apologizing to his father. He had always liked her brother more. Maybe it was because he carried on the tradition of sports. Maybe it was because Futaba reminded him too much of Wakaba, who he actually cared enough about to learn her name. Goro's mother was hired. Wakaba was a colleague. Maybe the old fucker had a conscience and couldn't swallow the guilt of ruining the career of a financially unstable, mentally tormented woman. She left a note. It was nothing like Futaba had ever seen her write. Scribbled and rushed, almost unfinished. She had buried it down so far she couldn't remember reading it, just the shock of knowing its contents. 

Futaba stared at the ceiling, counting all of her glowing stars stuck to the plaster. There were 26. That was a lot of stars for Futaba's small universe. Her little solar system, revolving around the people who mattered. All of those bright little stars, glowing green on her ceiling, being swallowed by the black holes of her half-shitty, half-dead parents. She drifted across her floor, the rolling wheels of her desk chair making a dull scratching sound. 

She was so small. The stars weren't even a fraction of how many were physically burning above her roof. Above the town, the country, the continent, the world. She was so small and so _tired_. So lonely, even though there were millions of people on the Earth, billions out there who didn't even qualify as a significant number compared to the amount of silent, watching stars in the empty, still space above them. 

Maybe Goro wasn't satisfied with just a sister. Maybe he wanted someone who wasn't Futaba to hang out with. Maybe he got bored. 

Maybe Futaba wasn't enough. Like the glowing stars on her ceiling weren't enough to compare to the real stars, burning brighter, more beautifully. 

Akira was bright. He was shiny and new, and he was different. Goro doesn't need his sister like he needs Akira. They're not even proper siblings, they don't share the same mother, and their shared father isn't a father. In theory, Akira could give Goro more than a sister could. Futaba would be left in the dust, watching Akira take gold, while silver circled her neck like a rope, pulling up, and up, and-

"Shut up!" She screamed, pushing herself off of the chair and onto the floor. 

The wood hurt her knees, but she knew it was what she needed. The pain made her breathe, it made her _feel_ in the vacuum of space. She needed to see the tears fall onto the floor to make them stop. She placed her arms over the back of her neck, curling up on the floor as the tears splattered to the ground, creating a small puddle. A very small puddle, but a puddle nonetheless. 

God, she was fucking pathetic. She couldn't get over herself and just accept the fact that Goro is happier than he's ever been when he's with Akira. She had to wake up and face the facts. She won't be enough for him. She won't be enough for the only family she has. Futaba got up, her face blotchy and swollen, slinking into the bathroom to wash her face. She thought of Yusuke and Sumire, how absolutely sweet and caring they were. 

What would they think of her now?

Yusuke would hug her, pat her head, and give her some words of wisdom from some unforeseen source. Sumire would cheer her up and tell her she was worthy or some cute cheerleading bullshit. 

Maybe they were right. Maybe Futaba was falling back into her old pattern of crying, eating, then sleeping for 12 hours. Maybe, just fucking maybe, Futaba was being harsh. She tried to imagine them saying that she was right about being insignificant, and she couldn't. She splashed water on her face, washing away the tears. This wasn't any time to be moping around feeling sorry for herself. She had a bet to win. 

She turned on her heel and marched out of the bathroom with newfound confidence. Keys turned in the lock downstairs, and she swallowed.

"Ok, Futaba, it's time to win the bet, because if you don't, you're probably going to die from liver poisoning from Goro's cooking." She muttered to herself, pacing around her room. She pulled on some fresh clothes that weren't covered in snot and Dorito crumbs. 

Footsteps echoed from downstairs, and the sound of Goro laughing reverberated in the halls. She smiled, then slapped her cheeks, praying she didn't look like a tomato from all her crying. 

"Futaba, you've got this! You've been accepted into Princeton, Yale, and Beijing. You can handle your brother and his boyfriend at dinner." She said to herself, then headed downstairs. 

She was Futaba _fucking_ Sakura and she could take this shit. 


	2. The Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira cooks for Futaba and Goro.  
> Futaba finds herself relating to Akira more than she thought she would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahaha i'm not dead...  
> i just... procrastinated so hard with other WIPs that this disappeared under the pile of vampires, car chases, and murder (oh my!)....  
> but like  
> here you go??????

Akira hummed as he cut into the nectarine, carefully carving around the pit. He placed the stone to the side, then sliced the nectarines into wedges. He lined them up on the tray, then placed them on the grill. He moved on to the tomatoes. With ease, he cut them into quarters and placed them in the salad bowl with the rocket and the basil. Arms snaked around his waist and Goro's head rested on his shoulder, warm and comforting. 

"You're spoiling us. Where did you find this recipe?" He murmured, playing with the fabric of his button-up shirt. It was one of his favorites, and he used it to impress those who needed impressing. 

"It's something I've been working on for a bit. You'll be my guinea pigs for this experiment." He chuckled, picking up a spare slice of nectarine and feeding it to his boyfriend. 

Goro hummed in approval, then swallowed. "Happy to be of service to you." 

Akira laughed, then chopped up the prosciutto. Goro removed himself from his torso, then hopped to sit on the kitchen table, picking up his book again. Akira could see his reflection in the glass cabinet, engrossed in his book completely. He smiled, then went to check on the nectarines. 

"Futaba isn't vegan or vegetarian, is she?" He asked, hovering over the cut of lamb he had been preparing. Goro shook his head. 

"She'll eat everything." He said, turning the page. 

Akira nodded, then rubbed the herbs over the meat, ticking them off in his head. The nectarines started sizzling again, so Akira took them off of the heat and placed them to the side. 

Goro watched his boyfriend slide the lamb into the oven over the top of his book. Akira shut the oven door and ran his hands under the kitchen tap. Wiping his hands on his jeans, he started to mix the nectarines and the prosciutto with the salad, adding a few dashes of the salad dressing he had prepared earlier. He puffed out a breath and set the salad onto the side of the counter. 

"In about half an hour, I'll take the lamb out." He said, half to himself, and half to Goro. 

Goro set his book down as Akira got closer, pulling him forward. "Thank you." 

Akira shook his head, placing a finger on his lips. "Don't. I _want_ to do this for you." 

He kissed him, tucking his hair behind his ears. Goro locked his hands together against the nape of Akira's neck, bringing him even closer. His thighs pressed against his hips, and just as Akira was about to move onto Goro's neck, a very pointed cough interrupted them.

"Hi," Futaba said, dripping with disgust. 

Goro unwrapped his legs from Akira's waist, clearing his throat. Akira's eyes fixated on the floor, his face reddening by the second. Good. Let the shame flood through him, he deserved it. Futaba marched into the kitchen, eyeing them with repugnance. She reached for the cupboard door. Goro frowned. 

"Futaba, we're eating in a bit. Can your pop-tarts wait?" He said, slinking a hand across Akira's waist, sneaking in a quick kiss before they got caught. 

"They can't. I need them." Futaba sighed, then placed a hand over her forehead, drooping melancholically. She turned around, somehow having stuffed two in her mouth, and placed the empty box in the trash. Futaba munched on her pop-tart as Akira smoothed down his shirt. 

"So. Akira, right?" She said, in the least hospitable tone of voice ever to grace the household. Which said a lot, because the big bald ballsack lived there on the weekends. 

Akira nodded, smiling warmly. "You betcha. It's nice to meet you properly." 

She nodded, swallowing the first pop-tart and moving on to the second. "What subjects do you take?" 

Akira placed his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. "I take a lot of things. Drama, Psychology, History, English. A whole mix." 

He laughed amicably, making everyone in the room feel a little bit more at ease. Akira was nice so far, if not insatiable. It seemed like everything was going smoothly. 

She nodded. "Cool. And you're on the football team, too. How's that going for you?" 

He grinned. "It's great. I really enjoy it."

Goro smiled as well, a horrible mushy look forming on his face. "He's the quarterback, too. The team would be pretty shit without him." 

Futaba had to repress the feeling of dread that dropped like a cannonball in her stomach. A few weeks ago, Goro would be happy to tell you that Shujin's football team would be better off without "That fucking Akira Kurusu." Now, here he was, saying that all of his hard work as the running back was futile. She could barely stop herself from falling to her knees and cursing the world for sending her dumb brother a seemingly perfect boyfriend. 

Instead, Futaba swallowed her last pop-tart. "Your timer is going off."

"Ah," Akira said, then leaped into action. 

He pulled the lamb out of the oven, then shut the oven door. The smell was _insane_. Futaba had never drooled over food that wasn't pre-packaged, but apparently, Hell had unexpected blizzards. Akira's skilled hands slid the leg of lamb onto the serving plate that Goro had gotten out, avoiding the still sizzling grate the meat had cooked on. Goro slipped off of the table, fetching cutlery and plates. 

"Futaba, can you do me a favor?" He said, placing the forks on the table. She looked up, brushing crumbs from her lap. 

"Yeah, but it'll cost you." She said, grinning. Goro frowns. 

"I was going to ask you to help set the table," He says, raising an eyebrow, "Not help me evade my taxes." 

She shrugged. "A girl's gotta work. But, just this once, it'll be free of charge. Only because I love you." 

Goro narrowed his eyes but didn't say anything else. Score: 1 to Futaba, 0 to Goro. Suck it, jock. 

She placed the forks on the table, then the plates. She paused on getting the glasses, watching the skill Akira had with cooking. He was pretty good, she'd give him that. Her eyes drifted to her brother, watching him smile. As long as Goro was happy, she could do this. 

Akira set the lamb down on the table, then handed the salad bowl to Goro. Futaba admired the spread of food across the table, and honestly?

It was really good. It felt _whole_ . She smiled a little bit, and it felt nice. Akira sat down next to Goro, running his fingers over his knuckles. Futaba helped herself to the lamb, her mouth watering at the smell. She gave the salad an incredulous look, then placed a few leaves and a slice of nectarine on her plate. Salad was _always_ guilty until proven innocent. 

"So, Akira, how many people have you dated before?" She dove straight in, munching on a spinach leaf. 

Goro choked on his water. " _Futaba_!"

"What? Nothing wrong with checking he's not a fuckboy." She said, shrugging. 

Akira stared at his plate as if it held the secrets of the universe on it. Her brother gave her a look that could have set her eyebrows on fire if he squinted the tiniest bit more. If they had a psychic link, Futaba was pretty sure he'd be screaming "There is a line, and you're crossing it!"

But there was no psychic screaming, only Goro saying, "Mind your manners." 

She glowered at him and, took a bite of the lamb. It was so good, it threatened to melt the frown from her face. The benefits of having Akira as a brother-in-law would be that kind of food every Christmas. Tempting, but Futaba would have to decline. Last time she checked, she would be in the front seat, propping her shoes on the dashboard as they sped out of this small town. Not Akira. 

A small, malicious thought ran through her mind, and Futaba felt ashamed for thinking it. What if she pulled a shoujo trope and tried to break them up? She shook her head. That was too much. Futaba may be morally ambiguous, but she wasn't an anime villain. She had _principles_. Besides, Goro would probably hate her. Only for a few months, but still. 

She banished the thought with the regrettably tasty salad. Even if it was green, the fruit was pretty tasty. "So, what did you do to make the apples squishy?" 

Akira looked up at her, his eyes wide. "The, uh, apples?" 

Goro placed a hand to his temple, taking deep breaths. He really should have auditioned for the school play if he was going to make a drama out of this. All she was asking were cooking tips. He should be grateful.

She nodded, chewing. "Yesh, the applesh. What did shyou do to make them schquishy?"

Akira gaped dumbly at her, stammering like a goldfish pushing bubbles out of its mouth. "What did I do... To make the _apples_... Squishy?" 

She rolled her eyes. "Goro, I broke your boyfriend." 

"Futaba, just put him out of his misery." Her brother chastised, his hand covering his eyes. "Don't be a clown."

She put her hand on her chest in mock offense. How dare he? Calling her a clown was the lowest of the low. This only meant one thing...

"On the contrary, my brother! I am not a _clown_." She waggled her eyebrows at him, then sent a grin to Akira. "I am the entire circus." 

The dark-haired boy laughed. "That was my favorite game when I was, like, fourteen! He was my favorite character." 

Futaba snorted. "Edgeworth was only your favorite character because he talked like an encyclopedia, had bad hair, and dressed like a grandpa. You _totally_ thought he was hot." 

Akira stifled a laugh, then, in unison, they both turned to look at Goro. He groaned, setting his glass down with a dull thud. "Shut up." 

They all laughed, although Goro's was sarcastic, and Futaba felt a strange sense of ease. Although they had already had three people sitting at this table before, it never felt full. It was always cold, empty, and had a lingering feeling of hopelessness. Now, the seats were full, the lights were warm, and the food was nice. Hell, the food was _really_ good. Her fork trembled in her grip, reflecting a scar of light onto the ceiling. She sniffed, then steadied her hand. Now was not the time. She had a boyfriend to evaluate. 

"Okay, so tell me what you did to the apples." She grinned, setting her fork down, and interlacing her fingers underneath her chin. 

Akira's smile fell. "You're not joking." 

Futaba narrowed her eyes. "No. Did you boil them?"

"You literally saw me grilling them. Anyway, they're not apples. They're nectarines." He explained, nodding to the opened plastic container holding the round fruits. 

Futaba raised her eyebrows. "Yeah, _sure_ , they're _not_ apples."

Goro sighed, sinking into his seat. Akira smiled nervously. "They, uh, they're not." 

"Okay, then," She leaned back, crossing her arms. "If they're not apples, then what are they?"

"They're nectarines. They're like hairless peaches." He said, making vague gestures with his hands. "Y'know, nectarines." 

Futaba stared at him like he'd just told her there were blue skittles. Goro sighed, placing his napkin on the table. "Futaba doesn't usually eat anything more than cup noodles and Doritos. I apologize if she's scrambled your brain." 

He scooped up his plate, the made the move to collect Akira's. The dark-haired boy scoffed, then tried to take both plates from his boyfriend's hands. "Let me get those." 

Goro narrowed his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. You cooked, I get the plates. That's just how it works." 

"Sit down, Goro, let me get the plates. I'm a guest in your house." Akira argued, pulling the dished closer to him. 

Futaba watched in disgust at they bickered over who would do the dishes, then stood up. She put her plate in the sink, then took her fork out from the foam. She stared at them, watching them go back and forth for what seemed like an eternity. Then, rather grumpily, she shoved her fork in the garbage disposal and switched the machine on. 

The noise was indescribable. It was like if a pterodactyl and Wall-E were singing a duet from Andrew Lloyd-Webber's Cats, only to have their vocal cords replaced with cheese graters and a cowbell. She was pretty sure there were a few well-placed clunks in there. The other two stared in a mixture of fear, confusion, and worry. Futaba held eye contact with them as she reached into the cupboard over the sink, grabbed the jar of Nutella, and unscrewed the lid. She turned the garbage disposal off, then stuck the battered fork in the Nutella, and took a large mouthful. Futaba swallowed. 

"Chivalry is dead. Put the plates in the dishwasher." She said. 

Akira watched her put the jar of Nutella back in the cupboard with a bewildered look in his eye. Goro stared on in a mixture of defeat, as well as complete and utter confusion. Futaba waved her finger at him in a cautioning manner. 

"Remember. One week." She warns, her face vacant. "At this rate, it may seem like you're winning, but I refuse to eat your cooking." Promptly, Futaba sauntered out of the kitchen, wiping the rest of the Nutella from her face. 

Goro leaned through the window of his boyfriend's car, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. Akira knitted his fingers through his hair, his ring finger tracing circles on the back of his neck. Goro drew back, resting his chin on his arms. 

"Sorry about Futaba." He said, tapping lightly on the rolled-down window pane.

Akira shook his head, smiling sweetly up at him from the driver's seat. "What are you apologizing for? She's great." 

Goro smiled. "Yeah. Usually, people think she's a little much, but she's just trying to see what makes you tick. Thanks for not being one of those people." 

Akira's hand cupped Goro's cheek, his thumb sweeping over his bottom lip. "Hey. It was great. I loved spending time with you, and Futaba was really fun. Tell her I said goodbye, okay?"

The brown-haired boy frowned. "Who said you could leave just yet? I don't think you've recieved enough _thorough_ examination for you to just waltz out of here." 

Akira grinned like a jackal, his teeth glinting in the light from the streetlamps. "Oh? Then you'll just have to get in here and evaluate me, won't you?" 

A few thuds came from the front porch, and just as Goro leaned in to kiss Akira once more, he was sprayed in the face with tepid water. Futaba laughed maniacally, holding a spray bottle in her hand. 

"Leave room for Jesus! Back, demons, back, I say!" She yelled, then have Akira a squirt for good measure. "When you come over again, be sure to bring a goodbye gift."

"Don't be rude, Futaba." Goro lectured, wiping the water from his eyes. He looked like a mildly pissed-off wet cat. Akira looked like a drowned rat. 

A match made in heaven. Goro would eat him up, then chew him out. Futaba was destined for that front seat, and there was no way in hell this soggy fuckboy was going to get in her way. She had been left behind once in her life before, and that was more than enough. 

"Fly, you fool! Fly!" She screeched, and Akira gave them a half-assed salute as he turned the ignition on. 

"Goodnight, Futaba!" He called out, then blew a kiss to Goro. "Goodnight, babe. Best dessert I could ask for." 

"Ew! Gross! Go away and think about what you've done!" Futaba screamed, shaking her fist at him as he sped away. Goro shook the water from his hand, then gave her a look. 

"You are so grounded." He hissed. 

Futaba stuck her tongue out at him. "You can't ground me, I quit!" 

She zoomed back inside, leaving her older brother on the sidewalk, as he called after her, "That's not how it works!"

Foolishly foolish fool. That _is_ how it works. Futaba invented law, and she was only letting him borrow it for the important stuff, like gravity and Phoenix Wright. Grinning madly, Futaba flipped him the bird as she scrabbled her way up the stairs. 

"You cannot stop me! I am speed itself!" 

Goro scoffed, shutting the door behind him as he followed her up the stairs. "If you're speed, I bet you can beat me at Mario Kart." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "Oh, wait."

Futaba hissed at him. He was infamously good at Mario Kart. He had to keep his mic off when he played online because of the sheer amount of obscene profanities that spewed out of his mouth while playing. Once, he made three thirteen-year-old boys cry, all at the same time. 

Simply put, he was Futaba's gaming hero. Of course, she always put up a good fight, but Goro was _ruthless_. Didn't mean winding him up wasn't fun. 

"Oh, it is on! I call dibs on Rosalina!" She cheered, sliding down the corridor with her socks. 

Her brother scaled the steps two a time in order to cram himself into the doorway first. "You wouldn't _dare_."

Futaba grinned, flashing the controllers in her hand. "Watch me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so the salad is an actual thing my dad used to cook, and HOLY SHIT it is GOOD  
> the recipe itself was inspired by Gjelina's grilled peach and burrata salad, but my dad used to add prosciutto and tomatoes and he changed the peach to nectarine. it was HEAVENLY.


End file.
